As I was searching for a much needed means of support regarding my valid,
albeit somewhat unforeseen rant, I came across this website.
Although I am certainly the most passionate about this tragedy, I am also
certain that there have to be some other forms of intelligent, functioning
human beings out there who have at one time or another pondered the same
mysteriously irritating phenomenon of sit-down dining.
The ever-so-complex world of Chinese food. I will admit fully, that it was
my own horrendous mistake to believe that a "Chinese Buffet" could resemble
anything close to mainstream society's perception of a "help yourself"
eating establishment. Having said that, my issue is with cutlery - or lack
thereof. I'd like to have a few minutes alone with the Harvard Grad who
invented chopsticks. There's a high caliber individual at work. I am fully
convinced - having been subjected to these wooden monstrosities - that the
fundamental purpose of chopsticks is strictly for the viewing pleasure of
the restaurant owners and staff alike. If you think they're all sweet and
innocent in the back of the restaurant, happily fuckin' around with their
freshly slaughtered pig carcass, think again. Looking around at the lovely
uses of skin among me, I observed enough chicken fried rice, sweet & sour
pork, and ginger beef on the shirts of the patrons to successfully feed a
medium-sized third world nation for the remainder of the decade. That is, of
course, if the citizens of this country were keen on the universal inside
joke behind chopsticks. Upon engaging in further thought, as my chow mien
began to turn my white shirt into a lovely kaleidoscope of colors, I also
came to the realization that Chinese restaurant owners are in direct
collusion with TideŽ.
This got me thinking of how in the blue hell anyone could possibly have
missed out on that amazing invention we have come to know and love as The
Fork. Chinese people... you know they've seen the fork. Looking back through
time, I came across a mental image of a 3 foot tall man with a beetles
haircut working on a Chinese farm. Hello! PITCHFORK! There it is! You're not
plowing 40 acres with a couple of pool cues! Apparently they do however,
because directly following an incident involving a chopstick and a patron's
cornea, a lovely little girl wearing my mother's living room carpet began
furiously sweeping beneath my feet... with what looked to be a giant pool
cue. Upon presenting the idea of forks and other civilized eating utensils
to the 3 foot tall man with a beetles haircut (coincidence?) at the front
desk, I was so graciously offered the following pearls of wisdom... "Oh
no... Visa or Masacad."
Having regained my strength and sanity upon exiting said establishment, I
came to the conclusion that not only are Chinese restaurant owners evil
little creatures to be monitored closely and carefully, but those good,
law-abiding, God-fearing people of America should avoid these houses of
horror at all costs, entering only at the expense of their cornea's and
their favorite Donna Karan jeans.